


Visiting Hours

by Fixy



Series: Soft [1]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Awwwww it’s a cute one, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, if you’re looking for sex then it is not here, kind of, seafood platter, this is soft land full of soft feelings and soft touches and vomit, vomit! again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 04:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fixy/pseuds/Fixy
Summary: Eve has come to really enjoy Villanelle’s visits. Even when Villanelle is... clammy.





	Visiting Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danisjamie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danisjamie/gifts).

> A little gift for my twitter pal Chloe! I hope you like it :)
> 
> TW: vomit! Again! Didn’t realise I’d post this and the Every Rose vom chapter within two nights of each other but here we are. I do not have a vom thing.

It’s been eight days since Eve last saw Villanelle. 

The assassin slash on-loan agent has made it a habit of dropping in on Eve, unannounced and unexpected, and as much as it pains Eve to admit it, she’s gotten used to having Villanelle around. 

Sometimes there’s a three day gap, sometimes two weeks, sometimes no gap at all as Eve will wake up the morning after seeing Villanelle to find her sat at her backdoor, like a cat waiting to come in after a hunt. 

At first it scared the shit out of her. 

Obviously. 

The last time before the  _ first _ time the woman dropped in, she’d convinced Eve to take pills that she thought were going to kill her, then made her throw them up, then laughed, then held a knife to her, then-

It was just… it was a lot. 

Whenever Villanelle appeared during the first couple of months, Eve damn near had a heart attack. Every single fucking time. But when it became clear that Villanelle wasn’t planning on hurting her or killing her or threatening her with a matching scar, Eve started to relax. 

She still wasn’t comfortable with the visits back then, still didn’t warm up to the relaxed figured that was Villanelle lounging on her couch or cooking them dinner. That took another month. 

But eventually, eventually, Eve was able to actually somewhat… enjoy, the visits. She can admit that Villanelle is a pretty interesting person to talk to. And she has good taste in TV. And she’s a phenomenal cook. And she has funny stories. And she’s well travelled. And-

Whatever. She doesn’t mind Villanelle stopping by. 

Anyway. 

It’s been eight days and Eve is starting to wonder when Villanelle might show up next. It’s Easter weekend so Eve has extra days off from work, and she plans on spending it doing nothing but reading and maybe a little redecorating. Since Niko moved out things have been looking a little drab, and Eve is excited to make the house her own with a lick of paint and some new prints on the walls. 

But it would be nice if Villanelle could drop in so that Eve has some company. Plus, Villanelle is tall enough to paint the coving in her bedroom; it’s a win win!

She’s considering calling for takeout when there’s a rhythmic knock at her door. 

That was another thing. At some point, Villanelle had started to knock instead of break in. 

Eve feels a little thrill of excitement in her stomach at the familiar pattern, knowing that it’s Villanelle, but tries to quash it. She clears her throat, then heads to the door and swings it open. 

“Hey!” 

“Hello Eve.”

Eve can immediately tell that something’s wrong. 

“Are you okay?”

Villanelle doesn’t look… right. Even under the poor outside lighting, Eve can see that Villanelle is paler than usual, her skin sort of shiny. 

“I’m fine,” Villanelle says quietly, “just feel a bit weird.”

“Okay.” Eve says, fighting to keep the concern out of her voice. Regardless of how Villanelle is feeling, it wouldn’t be good for her to catch on to how glad Eve is that she’s here. “Well, come in. I was about to order takeout, if you think some food might help?” 

Villanelle grimaces and shakes her head as she follows Eve into the living room. She slumps down onto the sofa and Eve perches next to her, eyeing her clammy skin warily. 

“No, I ate a couple hours ago while I was working.”

“Working?” Eve says, interest piqued. “For Mi6?”

Villanelle chuckles, but it lacks her usual mirth. 

“No. A side job.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be doing that while working for us.” Eve says skeptically, but Villanelle just gives her a deadpan stare. 

“What, are you going to tell on me?”

Eve purses her lips and Villanelle gives her a small smile. 

“I thought not.” She says. She lifts her hand to cup her forehead, exhaling in a controlled way. “It was an easy job anyway. Wear a disguise, bump into the guy on the street, say the right things until he asks me out, etcetera. We met at a restaurant near Leicester Square, I slipped a slow working poison into his drink, and we ordered the seafood platter-” 

Villanelle stops suddenly and frowns. 

Eve stares at her, confused. 

“Vill?” She asks carefully, watching the blonde swallow hard. “You okay?”

“Mm.” Villanelle hums quickly, nodding, then abruptly stops nodding. “Excuse me for a minute.”

Eve watches in total confusion as Villanelle rises from the sofa and makes her way to the staircase. She climbs it calm and controlled, her stare straight ahead of her until she disappears from Eve’s view. 

Eve is about to go ahead and call for takeout for herself when she hears it. 

The clunk if the toilet seat behind lifted followed by a harsh wretch. 

And then the splattering sound of vomit hitting porcelain. 

“Oh shit.” Eve sighs. She drops her phone to the sofa and heads into the kitchen to grab a large glass, then fills it with cold water before hurrying up the stairs. 

Villanelle is still throwing up, and when Eve reaches the landing she can see Villanelle’s feet near the bathroom doorway, legs folded beneath her as she kneels over the toilet bowl. 

She steps into the doorway of the room and looks down worriedly at Villanelle, her chest tightening at how small the woman looks, hunched on the floor. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eve says quietly, reaching for a hair tie from the side and crouching next to Villanelle. “It’s okay.”

Villanelle looks like she’s trying to say something, but all that comes out is another wretch and another wave of vomit. Eve grimaces, but leans forward to pull Villanelle’s hair out of her face. The ends are wet but Eve ignores that, dragging the hair to the back of Villanelle’s head and securing it into a loose bun. 

“There we go,” Eve says, rubbing a hand on Villanelle’s back, “let it out.”

Villanelle coughs and gasps, then looks at Eve with streaming eyes. 

“Please go away,” she croaks, “I do not want you seeing me like this.”

Eve just scoffs. 

“I’m not gonna leave you with your head over my toilet.” She says with a frown. “Let me help you.”

“But why?” Villanelle gasps around an empty wretch.

That stumps Eve. What can she say? I know we’ve tried to kill and capture each other numerous times and I should totally despise you for so many reasons, but I’ve come to realise I care you about you quite a bit and seeing you in this weakened and vulnerable state is making me sad?

“I…” Eve trails off while trying to find the right words, hand still absentmindedly stroking Villanelle’s back. “Just, let me help. I want to.”

Villanelle is silent as she peers at Eve with bloodshot eyes. 

“Okay.” Villanelle says hoarsely, slumping against the toilet and wiping a sleeve over her sweaty forehead. “Fine.” 

“Good.” Eve says quietly with a small smile. She reaches up to grab the glass she left on the side of the sink. “I brought you some water.”

She hands the glass to Villanelle who takes a grateful sip. 

She then promptly throws it back up again. 

Eve sighs. It’s going to be a long night. 

—— 

They spend over 45 minutes on the bathroom floor, Eve propped up against the sink and rubbing mindless patterns across Villanelle’s back, Villanelle leaning heavily on the toilet with her arms crossed over it, propping her head up. 

“When will it stop?” Villanelle asks weakly, turning her head slightly to look blearily at Eve. 

“Well I reckon you have food poisoning, probably from that seafood platter, so at least 24 hours, I think.”

Villanelle groans pitifully and stares back down into the toilet. 

“This is karma for letting him pick the food.” 

“Yeah, that’s what the karma is for,” chuckles Eve, “not karma for  _ killing _ the guy.”

Villanelle stares back at her and glares. 

“I am sick, can you please not make fun of me?”

“Make fun of you?” Eve splitters around a laugh. “V, you literally killed a guy and you’re blaming  _ this _ on letting him order for you!”

Villanelle continues to glare for a moment then sighs, her shoulders dropping and her body losing its fight. 

“Okay.” Villanelle agrees sadly, and Eve frowns. 

“What? No, you’re supposed to argue with me.”

“I am too tired.” Villanelle mumbles. “All of my energy is in the toilet.”

Eve smiles at Villanelle’s ability to still joke at a time like this, then she slows the stroking of her hand to a halt. Villanelle notices, and pouts at her. 

“Come on,” Eve says, standing up, “it’s been 20 minutes since you last threw up. I think it’s safe to move you.”

“Move me where?” Villanelle’s whimpers softly, reaching a hand to Eve for help. Eve gently pulls her up, putting her hands out to steady Villanelle as she sways.

“To the spare bed.” Eve says. “You ready?”

She slings an arm around Villanelle and guides her out of the bathroom, feeling strange in this weird switch of power, at having the woman so vulnerable around her.

It’s not happened since-

Well. It’s not happened for a while. 

She sits Villanelle down on the end of the bed and goes about taking the blonde’s shoes off. When she stands up, Villanelle is staring up at her tiredly. 

“Please will you get me a bucket?” She says in a small voice, and Eve has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling. 

“God, how are you being cute right now?”

And she definitely wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. 

She blames the power switch. 

Villanelle smiles curiously at Eve, despite the almost grey parlour of her face and baby hairs stuck to her clammy forehead. 

“You think I am cute?” 

Eve scoffs in a poor attempt at a cover up. 

“No, obviously no, just… whatever, you look… whatever. I’ll get you a bucket.”

Nice save idiot, Eve thinks to herself as she heads downstairs to grab the empty mop bucket. 

——

Eve never thought she’d be rooting around in her drawers for something for Villanelle to sleep in. 

She grabs a pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt, thinking they’ll be best for if Villanelle wakes up cold or hot or sweating from the sickness. She brings them through to the guest room and finds Villanelle sat in the middle of the bed, staring down at her twiddling fingers.

“Here,” says Eve, “some stuff for you to sleep in.”

Villanelle doesn’t say anything, so Eve just stands there. 

“Um, I guess I’ll just go to bed now. Yell if you need anything?”

“What?” Villanelle says desperately, and when her head shoots up to look at her Eve is shocked to see tears in Villanelle’s eyes. 

“Are you crying?” Eve asks tentatively, taking a careful step towards the bed. 

“No!” Villanelle barks, looking away from Eve and rubbing at her face furiously. “No, it is just the food poisoning, it is making me… weepy.”

“Uh huh.” Eve says sarcastically. She steps closer to the bed and sits on the edge. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, Vil.”

Villanelle looks back at her and glares. 

“I could kill you in 13 different ways in this room alone.” She growls.

Eve laughs. 

“And I 100% believe that.” Eve says with a smile. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not crying.”

Villanelle’s glare cracks and her lips form a small pout. She looks back down at her hands and sniffs. 

“I do not feel well.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Eve says gently, and Villanelle gives her a curious look at the nickname. Eve pushes through it. “Get changed and then we’ll get you into bed, okay?”

Eve steps out of the room and closes the door, giving Villanelle some privacy and herself a much needed pause. 

This is all very… soft. Eve can’t think of another word to describe it. Usually when Villanelle comes over they eat and drink, they watch movies, they chat and laugh, they sit in the garden, they sit on the sofa, they cook. 

This is very much  _ not _ that. 

This is… this is Eve looking after Villanelle, taking care of her. This is Villanelle  _ needing _ Eve, all doe-eyed and pale skin and sad pouts as she relies on Eve to help her. 

It’s… it’s nice. 

God, it’s  _ so _ nice. 

Eve feels… Eve feels a lot. 

She doesn’t like that Villanelle is sick, obviously, that would be weird, but she likes knowing that she is helping Villanelle feel better, that she’s getting to care for someone who has  _ literally _ murdered people. 

She feels pretty special. 

“Eve?” A small voice calls through the door. 

When Eve walks back in she finds Villanelle curled up under the duvet. 

“You good?” Eve asks, closing the door behind her. 

“I am cold.” Villanelle mumbles through the duvet pressed tight against her mouth. Eve frowns and walks to the side of the bed then places a hand on Villanelle’s forehead. 

“You’re burning up,” Eve sighs, ”I’ll be right back.” 

Eve hops off the bed and dashes to the bathroom, soaking a flannel in cold water before jogging back into the room. She sits back down and presses the flannel to Villanelle’s forehead, who hisses at the cold.

“I know sweetheart, I’m sorry, I know it’s cold,” Eve says sympathetically. “But this will help, I swear.”

After a minute or two Villanelle stops grimacing, and she sighs peacefully at the cooling flannel on her brow. 

“That feels nice.” Villanelle murmurs, her eyes sliding shut. 

Eve studies her face. She doesn’t get how even when she looks part slime, Villanelle is still beautiful. Eve knows for a fact that  _ she _ looks wrecked when she’s sick. 

“You’re still pretty, if that makes you feel any better?” Eve murmurs down at Villanelle, whose eyes open. A small smile grows on her lips, and Eve swears it’s almost a shy look. 

After a while the flannel is no longer cool, so she tosses it onto the bedside table, much to Villanelle’s disappointment. 

“Okay, I think I’ve done all I can.” Eve says, pushing some now wet hair away from Villanelle’s face. It’s a tender touch and Villanelle’s eyes soften. Eve decides to leave her hand there, resting against Villanelle’s cheek. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

“No.” Whimpers Villanelle quietly, before mumbling something into the duvet. 

“What was that?” Eve asks, craning forward to hear. 

“I just, um…” and Eve has never heard Villanelle falter like this before, it’s bizarre, it’s intriguing, “I wondered if maybe you could stay in here? With me?”

Eve is quiet for a moment, staring down at the hopefully expression on Villanelle’s face. 

“In the bed?”

Villanelle chuckles softly, sweetly. 

“Well, you could sleep on the floor if you wanted, but I think the bed might be more comfortable. Please?”

And it’s the  _ please _ that does it, that melts Eve’s resolve. It’s definitely the  _ please _ , and not at all the eager thumping of Eve’s treacherous heart wanting the chance to get close to Villanelle again. 

“Uh, I guess I could stay, sure.” Eve says in what she hopes sounds completely casual and not at all desperate. “I’ll just go get changed.”

When she returns in her pyjamas Villanelle is already half asleep, curled up on one side of the bed to make room for Eve. 

Eve slips under the thick covers and pulls them up to her chin, wriggling until she’s comfortable under the plush duvet, turning to look at Villanelle when she hears the woman laugh. 

“What?” Eve asks. Villanelle smiles. 

“You are cute when you get into bed.” Villanelle says while roaming her gaze over Eve’s face. “Like a puppy trying to get comfy.”

“I am not a puppy.” Eve says firmly. 

“I like puppies.”

“Okay fine I’m a puppy.”

Villanelle grins at that, and rolls onto her side to face Eve. Her eyes are sleepy and her skin still looks clammy, but she’s starting to get some colour back in her cheeks. Eve feels warmth settle in her chest. 

“How are you feeling?” Eve asks quietly in the dark, eyes tracing the outlines of Villanelle’s face through the shadows. 

“Like warmed up garbage.” Villanelle replies, and Eve scoffs. “But I am enjoying you looking after me.”

Eve looks into hazel eyes that appear black in the darkened room. 

“Oh yeah?” Eve says with a smile, because this feels like maybe a serious moment and she’s not exactly sure what to do except for land on middle ground. 

“Mmm.” Villanelle hums quietly. “I have never really had anyone look after me before. Only Konstantin.”

“Really?” Eve asks, surprised that Villanelle is letting her see a glimpse of her past, of herself. It makes her heart swell. “Well, if you’re ever sick again, you can count on me to play doctor.”

“Kinky.” Villanelle murmurs with a smirk that doesn’t quite work considering her weakened and sickly state, and Eve just grins. 

“You’re incorrigible.” Eve tells her fondly. “I’m gonna go to sleep now, unless there’s something else you need?”

Villanelle is silent and looks away, but Eve can tell it’s the silence that comes before Villanelle says something she finds difficult, rather than the silence that means she’s done talking, so Eve waits. 

Eventually Villanelle looks back up at Eve. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

It’s barely even a whisper, but Eve hears it like a shout. 

“Hold your hand?”

“Mmm.” Villanelle hums quietly, “I mean I  _ would _ ask you to spoon me, but I am very sweaty right now.”

Eve laughs and shuffles closer to Villanelle, forcing herself to not think for once in her life, to just go with how she feels instead. It’s hard, but she’s finding herself doing it more and more where Villanelle is concerned. 

“Incorrigible.” Eve whispers again with laughter in her eyes, but she brings a hand out and rests it on the mattress between them. “Come on then, you big baby.”

“Big baby?” Villanelle’s pouts while moving her hand to lie beside Eve’s. “I am not a big baby.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone go as pouty as you do while sick.” Eve says through a smile. Villanelle just huffs, but Eve can tell she’s smiling too. 

She feels a warm touch to her hand, then another, then fingers linking with her own. Eve feels the warmth travel all the way up her arm before it settles sweetly in her chest, sending her heart beating harder and her cheeks prickling with heat. 

Thank god it’s dark.

“Goodnight, doctor Eve.” Villanelle murmurs happily with a gentle squeeze to Eve’s hand. 

“Kinky.” Eve replies with a tired smile. 

Villanelle chuckles softly. 

“Incorrigible.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m @fixyfics on twitter if you want to chat/throw ideas at me!


End file.
